Sitting at the cafe
by drkness-consumed
Summary: Short words to read over coffee.
1. Dancing

_This is my first attempt at drabbles and I figured this might help me out of my writer's block on my other stories (both posted here and waiting in the doc manager). I do have the understanding that typical drabbles are only 100 words so I guess these are somewhere between drabbles and one-shots...in all honestly... :)_

Oh yea!

I do not own Sailor moon or anything therein.

**Dancing**

Word count: 402

She spun around the room, each note clinging to her pajamas. Each beat of the drum rode the waves of her hair to the floor. High on happiness, drunk on life, she was in love. She had known she was in love for months, but never thought that telling another soul could be so invigorating.

Her feet continued, hitting the floor in varying bumps and beats. Arms out, she twirled and danced. Hair down for the night after her shower, long golden waves floating around her like a gown.

The last moment of her day, before she stole home for the evening, was a typical fight. More teasing and taunting between her and the dark haired man she adored. More thrown shoes and insults. He made one comment that tore through her and she retorted with "I would never do that to someone who I love." She had felt her face burn but persisted. "I would never do that to you." Then she turned and left, feeling like the whole world had been left on the sidewalk for someone else to care about because now she had nothing to hide from him. All of her secrets were out and now she danced with the happiness and light of a forest fairy dabbing dew on the opening blossoms of dawn.

She had a sense of elated exuberance, spinning in the moonlight pouring in through her window. Dizzy, out of breath, and feeling the friction of carpet against skin, she dropped to the floor in a fit of giggles. It was a freeing feeling to have nothing to hide from the world or the people in it, damn the consequences. Those effects of what she said of the fight were irrelevant as her head fell back against the plush fibers, eyes closing.

The opened window poured cool air over her heated body and brought the deep rich scent of oak with a hint of roses. _Hmmmm. _She made a small yum sound and thought of him, his exact scent. With her mind's eye, she could see his teasing blue eyes laughing at her and his jet black hair dancing in the wind. Mind and body still reeling from her exuberant emotions, she fell asleep on the floor with only thoughts of a college boy with the most perfect eyes unaware of her on-looker and the single rose he left on her balcony. 

* * *

**_ Leave a comment and suggest a theme! One or two word themes, please! I need some light writing to help my work flow._**


	2. Honeysuckle

Word Count: 533

Honeysuckle

The weather was the opposite of her mood, full of bright sunshiny rays and clear skies. Even the trees and grass seemed happy to dance in the cool breeze of that June day. The wind whistled every so often, catching the leaves or branches in just the right manner. Wild flowers filled the fields on both sides of the road, filling the air with pleasant floral aromas.

All of this, yet nothing could stop her tears from falling. The sounds could not muffle her sniffles and sobs. The wind blew her attempt to hide her face away in the opposing direction. Today was a perfect day for love and picnics. Today was not a day for her.

The heat rose from the street, each foot step pounding against the asphalt, pushing her forward. She had no destination, no place to go, and no one to care for her. Her life was miles behind her in a house no longer her home with a man who no longer loved her. Every time her chest began to calm and her sobs stop, she remembered what he said as she was walking out the door, _you are worthless and disgusting. _She had been nothing but good to him, everything he asked for she complied, yet she was the one hurt.

Not many cars had passed her by, a small grace from an unrelenting being, and she was unsure of how far she had walked. Her feet began to hurt in her black boots. If she had somehow known this would happen, she would have dressed more appropriately instead a black and green skirt and black tight shirt in an attempt to impress. Another small grace, hardly any of the cars honked at her.

Pushing her honey blonde hair away from her view, she turned towards the sound of a slowing vehicle, more precisely a motorcycle. Sleek black and gleaming as if it had just been waxed. Blues jean and a black leather jacket showed the body of a man, all lean muscle. He straddled the bike, holding it up, while two hands moved to remove the helmet. Striking azure eyes met her grey cloudy skies as he pushed onyx strands from his face.

"Do you need help, miss?" The slight depth to his voice matched the emotions playing across his face.

"I..." Did she need help? "I think I'm lost." She finally took the time to look around, fully pulling her locks away from her face. The heat did not feel good on her swollen tear stained face.

"I will give you a ride." Another helmet materialized from nowhere it seemed and was given to her.

She was confused but mirrored his motions as his returned to his head. The bike was intimidating and she was certain now would be the time to run; but she didn't want to.

"Come." He held his hand out and she took it as he pulled her to sit behind him on the bike. "Hold on to me."

She did as instructed and they were off, the only thing on her mind was the over powering scent of honeysuckle and clinging to the man she held to for dear life.


	3. Therapy

Word Count: 194

Therapy

This has to be the most beautiful journal I have ever laid my fingers on! The leather is soft and smooth with small intricate designs all over the cover. Shooting stars over a great world tree; the moon with all it's craters posted at the corner. This journal will be my very first formal book to contain all of my poems and small drabbles of thought! The councilor said writing would help to keep the negative feelings at bay and I am starting to believe her. Just holding this journal in my hand is already causing happiness and glee to bubble at the surface! This will be a secret though, just as every session I have, just as every smile I have to paint on my mask to wear every day. No one will know of the horror and pain that I harbor or of the nightmares that keep me awake at night. The saddest part of the journal, though, is that once I fill it with my most secret feelings, I will destroy it and with it my feelings will leave me once and for all and I will be happy. I hope.


End file.
